Mark Kiszla: Richard Sherman was player most full of it at media day

NEWARK, N.J. — Fake tough guys don’t win football games. The slime green on his Seattle uniform is nastier than cornerback Richard Sherman. If he’s the toughest thing the Seahawks have on their side, Denver will win the Super Bowl by two touchdowns.

At Super Bowl media day, built from 100 percent pure American balderdash, the player the most full of it was Sherman.

But a Hall of Famer can smell a fake. All-time great defense tackle Warren Sapp, nearly unbeatable whether wrestling in the trenches or talking smack during his brilliant NFL career, told me Sherman tries to act tough but isn’t fooling anybody.

“This kid is a flip-flopper,” Sapp said Tuesday, as he rapped the table with his Hall of Fame ring to hammer home a point.

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Sapp wanted to make this perfectly clear: How Sherman treated a fellow competitor, sticking an insincere handshake in the chest of San Francisco 49ers receiver Michael Crabtree immediately after the NFC championship game, was bogus.

“If there’s ‘No love found, no love lost’ and all that,” Sapp said, “then don’t run over to this man (Crabtree) after you just made the play to win the game and say, ‘Good game.’ ”

Was trying to shake Crabtree’s hand an act of good sportsmanship by Sherman?

“No, no,” insisted Sapp. “He’s so full of it.”

Sherman was the definition of selfish, according to Sapp, when the Seattle cornerback bolted a spontaneous celebration by his teammates to go needle a beaten foe.

“I’ve been at the front of the train talking the whole way. If you’re going to set it up that way, live it that way,” said Sapp, whose jousts with everybody from Green Bay quarterback Brett Favre to New York Giants defensive end Michael Strahan earned him the right to be called one of the great trash-talkers in NFL history.

“Nobody asked (Sherman) to come out and volunteer this information: ‘No love found, no love lost and nobody shakes your hand after this game.’ But now the scoreboard’s in your favor? And you say: ‘Good game’? I’d have mushed him in his face.”

The NFL circus rolled into New Jersey on a bitter cold January morning and raised its tent inside a broken-down arena, where spectators purchased tickets to watch reporters do what we do best: create hullabaloo and hit the buffet line. An 83-year-old woman dressed in a No. 18 Broncos uniform asked Peyton Manning for a hug, and the quarterback obliged, because it was easier than saying no. Seahawks running back Marshawn Lynch, the real-deal beast Sherman only pretends to be, took questions for 6 minutes, 20 seconds before retreating to the shadows and hiding behind his shades.

Sherman put on a happy face for the cameras. He declared this Super Bowl: “The Fight in the Big Lights.” He talked music and social reform. He punctuated nearly every answer with “Thank you.” He said the song that gets him pumped up for games is “Act Right.”

Through it all, Sherman revealed one absolute truth: Anybody who tries to cast Sherman as a villain is dead wrong. This man doesn’t have the 24/7 commitment or the stomach to be a villain. While he might treat Crabtree like trash after the game is done and it’s easy to squawk in victory, Sherman wants too desperately to be liked to stay in character. “You never want to talk down a man to build yourself up,” Sherman said.

Sherman got in Stanford straight out of Compton. So props to that. And, one summer as a teenager, a trailer park in East St. Louis was my home. So big deal. Compared to the cockroaches under the sink of a double-wide that sat a few miles east of the Mississippi River, Sherman is as cuddly as a pussycat.

“Psychological gamesmanship does work. I can spiritualize, go Biblical and say: ‘As a man thinketh, so is he.’ Or I can just tell you: ‘Hey, if you know and think I’m better than you, than I am better than you.’ That’s just the reality of it,” said Hall of Fame receiver Michael Irvin, who digs Sherman’s act.

“Like I told Richard Sherman: ‘They say they love (Hall of Fame running back) Barry Sanders. But do you see them offer him a job after he retires? Do you ever see anyone bringing him up after he retires?’ They want you to act a certain way, but then they boot your certain way right on out of the league. All the people they talked about, they give jobs to in TV after they retire.”

There’s the bottom line: Sherman isn’t a tough guy. But he will play one on television for 15 seconds, if there’s money to be made.

To quote a song blasting in my earbuds as the sun set on media day: “Money don’t fold if it act right.”

For wannabe tough guys, it’s all an act. Super Bowl week is built on balderdash. At the end of Sunday night, however, the scoreboard takes no backtalk.